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as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some
ruthless villainy.
I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw
something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watched
carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to
find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst
travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I
had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest,
and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will
allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave
evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own
letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local
people be attributed to me.
It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up
here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which
is even a criminal's right and consolation.
I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time sat
doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were some
quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were
like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in
clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of
soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the
embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more
fully the aërial gambolling.
Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far
below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to
ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to
the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to
awake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling,
and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I
was becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dust; the
moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom
beyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom
shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in full possession of my
senses, and ran screaming from the place. The phantom shapes, which were
becoming gradually materialised from the moonbeams, were those of the
three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhat
safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lamp
was burning brightly.
When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the
Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed; and then
there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a
beating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, and
could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.
As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without--the agonised cry of a
woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out between
the bars. There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her
hands over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning
against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window she
threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:--
"Monster, give me my child!"
She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the same
words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat her
breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of extravagant
emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not see
her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.
Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the
Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be
answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes
had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated,
through the wide entrance into the courtyard.
There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but
short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.
I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and
she was better dead.
What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful
thing of night and gloom and fear?
* * * * *
_25 June, morning._--No man knows till he has suffered from the night
how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the
sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great
gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me
as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as
if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must
take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Last
night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal
series which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the
earth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen the
Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, that
he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his room!
But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.